


Titanium Snow

by Ottermidnight



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Returns, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Nostalgia, POV Bucky Barnes, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Snow, Snow Day, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottermidnight/pseuds/Ottermidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I met a man on a bridge. </p><p>We fought.</p><p>I knew him.</p><p>I saw him in my ambiguous dreams, where everything was hazy.</p><p>He called my name, the name which I had long forgotten that was mine."</p><p>Bucky has been trying to gather everything from his shattered past life, before he became the Winter Solider. Sometimes, his old memories come in scraps and shreds which are confusing and make it difficult to put them together. But the more memories he has regained, the more urge, they push him to see the man he met on a bridge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Marvel fanfiction.  
> I want to share this fanfic with everyone on Stucky and WinterBone ships.
> 
> I wrote Titanium Snow for my best friend, TooFar because she wanted to read something about Bucky's POV.  
> TooFar's an artist of Titanium Snow Fanbook that we sold @ Comic Avenue 2 which was a cartoon event in Thailand on Oct 11, 2014.
> 
> TooFar's Tumblr: http://www.storenvy.com/products/10188369-titanium-snow-fanbook
> 
> Btw, Please forgive me for any grammatical error.  
> Comment and Kudo are always appreciated.  
> Thank you for reading and enjoy!

_I met a man on a bridge._

 

_We fought._

 

_I knew him._

 

_I saw him in my ambiguous dreams, where everything was hazy._

 

_He called my name, the name which I had long forgotten that was mine._

 

_He called me his friend._

 

_He was my mission._

 

_He let me finished him._

 

_I was going to kill him but there was a voice inside my head stopping me._

 

_“Cause I’m with you til the end of the line.”_

 

_That was the first time I failed my mission, but it does not matter._

 

_I am not with Hydra anymore._

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

No more missions and orders.  
Just me on my own, trying to figure out who I was.

Hydra had been brainwashing me for decades, they wiped off almost everything clean. Whenever I could recall something or start to have long term a memory, they would delete it after every mission. I wasn’t allowed to have memory because I would have feeling and emotion. Being able to feel something would cause more problems. The more emptied my head is the less troublesome I am, a puppet assassin.

My real name was James Buchanan Barnes but people called me James Barnes or Bucky. I was a U.S. sergeant in the 107th during the Second World War. And the man I met on the bridge was Steven Rogers. I used to call him Steve. We grew up together and he was my best pal.

I’ve been trying to gather everything from my shattered past life, before I became the Winter Solider. With the leftovers of Hydra’s resources that were insufficient, I hardly found anything useful in the mainframe. Most information was about innumerous experiments they did on me which were things I wanted to forget more than remember.

I wish I could trade my bad memories with accessibility to my past. Things would be much easier than what they are currently.

Each day I start to regain my memories bit by bit during daytime from activities I do and places I visit. My old memories come in scraps and shreds which are confusing and make it difficult to put them together. Some memories I doubt if they were real or just something I made up, which I’d wished for them to happen. The more memories I’ve regained, the more urge they push me to see the man I met on a bridge.

 

So finally, I decided to turn to the last clue.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It’s not hard at all to find an address of the famous Captain America. There is no need to break into his apartment when he still puts a spare key under the carpet in front of the entrance like when we were living in the same building. I let myself into Steve’s apartment from a doorway within no time which is easier than unlocking double safeties on a handgun.

His apartment is modest, only a little furniture in simple design. It has one bedroom next to a bathroom then a kitchen and a living room. I walk round and end up in the living area. There is one coffee table in front of his T.V. next to a deep blue couch. I see sketching papers and two pencils spread on the table carelessly which wasn’t Steve’s habit to do so. He must have left his room in a hurry. I take a look at each sketch.

The first drawing is sunflowers in an urn and I see the paintings in watercolor of a man with brown eyes in six or seven paintings. This man has dark brown hair and beard, and his eyes colors are slightly lighter shade of brown. I must say he has the charm and smooth in pricy clothes. No doubt, Steve likes to draw and paint this man a lot. I wonder who this man is to Steve.

 

“Steve!”

 

Suddenly, I hear a boy’s voice calling Steve and footsteps from behind my back so I turn back to have a look. The flashback forms at the back of my mind. I see a figure of a young Steve Rogers sketching some kitties. They look so lively on the paper. His expression is serious; he absolutely pays full attention to a pencil in his hand.

 

“Steve!”

 

Then the voice calls out his name from behind again, Steve turns back and sees a brunette boy with green sweater. That boy is me, or should I say, that boy was me. My younger self is holding a roll of drawing papers in right hand and running toward Steve.

Papers are spread out on Steve’s table by my younger self and various ugly cat sketches are revealed. For some pictures, I do not even know that they are actually cats or not. They are more like aliens from outer space. One of the cats seems to have an odd shape tail or maybe it’s the fifth leg. Another one looks like it has only one eye without whisker at all, while a cat next to the one-eyed cat has a swollen belly that might explode at any time. Apparently, I have less than zero when it comes to a skill in art. Art was never my favorite subject because I was too lazy to practice.

“Can you do my art homework for me? I cannot draw. I don’t know how to draw!” My younger self cries at Steve desperately.

“No Bucky. It’s wrong to ask other people to do your homework for you. You should do it by yourself.” Steve replies with his eyes still fixed on the drawing.

“I did! And my drawings are awful. I don’t want to fail this subject. Please, help me, Steve. Please?” My younger self tries his best to look pitiful.

“No.” Steve answers shortly.

“Please, please, please, please and please?” My younger self is pretty stubborn so he tries again, harder this time.

This time Steve looks at me without saying a word then let out a long sigh. He must take pity on me or perhaps get annoyed by me because he offers me another alternative.

“I won’t do your homework for you…. but I’ll teach you how to draw, deal?”

I see my younger self nods and smiles. He takes a seat next to Steve eagerly. Steve hands me a pencil then an eraser and a piece of paper. He tries to teach me to draw a cat step by step. Steve begins with drawing two circles, the first one then the second bigger one under the first. I watch them draw together.

There are footsteps echo in my ears again, this time they aren’t not my old recollection. They are from the other side of the door which automatically brings me back to the present reality in Steve’s apartment. Someone is opening the front door with a key. The person on the other side of the door must be Steve since this is his apartment. I start to feel nervous and truly don’t know what to do. It took a lot of nerves before I’m finally here because I’m afraid he wouldn’t want to see me anymore.

Should I hide or run away or just sit down and have a cup of coffee with him? No, no, no, this isn’t a time for some random ridiculous ideas. I must be logical and rational. But how will he react after he sees me? He might have changed his mind about me being friend with him again. After all, I attempted to kill him and his boss, Will he forgive me? I did do something so unforgivable.

The front door swings open and Steve steps in.

Instinctively, I sit down on his couch and put the drawings back to where they were.

His eyes are widened out in disbelief like owls at night when they’re on hunting. I sit up straight slowly and try to figure out something to say to him with only hope to make this encounter less awkward. I have so many things that I’ve been keeping inside me for a long time but when I open my mouth none of those things come out.

 

“Hi…” That’s all I manage to say. I look up at him and give him an awkward smile.

 

Great… I feel like an idiot because I’m actually an idiot.

Steve drops his dinner all over the floor; the takeaways from Thai restaurant two blocks away make a real greasy mess.

No doubt, He’s surprised to see me, sitting on his couch.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After an hour of fumbling to communicate, Steve seems to understand why I am here. He is glad to see me again too, especially when we don’t have to fight or try to kill each other.

We talk about a lot of things. Steve’s been asleep, cocooned, for the last 70 years. Unlike me who’s been sleep fitfully for 50 years before he woke up. He’s learning about all the stuff people take for granted like computers, internet and telephones that have only one button but can also take a picture and play a song at the single time. After all Steve still prefers to use a notebook and a pen whenever he can, just like in the old days.

Then we call it a night.

Steve insists that I should sleep in his bed and he will sleep on the couch instead. But I don’t think none of this is necessary. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch anyway. Normally, I only sleep two to three hours per day because I cannot sleep for long. My body doesn’t seem to need sleep as much as normal people need.

Eventually, I give up on arguing and sleep in Steve’s bed. The bed smells of his shampoo and soap which I kind of like. I used the floor and benches in parks and empty lots as my bed for months before. So sleeping on a decent bed is like sleeping on a huge marshmallow which I think I would just slip through the floor underneath it, if I turn myself too fast while I’m sleeping.  
I think about the last few months of wandering restlessly and fall into the peaceful sleep for the first time in decades.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On the third night of staying at Steve’s apartment, a nightmare attacks me.

Usually, I dream almost every night about my past life but some nights like tonight I have nightmare instead. There are memories I’ve recalled which I wish I didn’t like faces of people I had killed when I was the Winter Solider, their screams and begs cut right through my ears in those nightmares. I don’t even know their names. I just know that I killed them by the looks in their eyes. But the nightmare I have tonight is different.

I don’t know when it begins or how I get there; all I can see is blood everywhere in my vague horrible dream where revolting noise emerges from the dark and the noise is like thousands of long nails scratching on a giant coarse blackboard before everything crumbles into shatters and vanish into the dark. I wake up with sweats and my heart banging madly in my chest. I attempt to go back to sleep again but it’s in vain.

My shirt is damped with sweat so I decide to take a cold shower. I take off my clothes before turn the shower head on. I begin to wonder whether the hot water could warm me up and makes me feel better like in the old days. I want to feel some warmth against my skin. So I turn on the hottest water, although, the heat cannot reach my skin and it’s been this way for so long until I cannot remember when it started. After standing under hot water for some time, I see the tepid steam from hot water covers the whole bathroom but I still feel nothing against my skin. The disappointment on my mind is undeniable as I lower myself down and sit with my back leaning against the bathroom wall under the shower head then close my eyes, listening to the sound of running water.

The next thing I notice is Steve shaking me and saying something which I cannot begin to understand. His expression is worried. He turns off the hot water and wraps a towel around me. I stare at him blankly; all groggy and exhausted so Steve carries me back to bed where he makes me sit down on the edge and dries my hair for me.

Later on, when my hair is dried, Steve puts his arms around me. He whispers in my ear that everything will be alright while stroking my hair gently.

I finally feel warm and comfortable in his strong embrace as I drift off.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Today is Sunday. The day Steve does his shopping, if he has nothing else important to do. Going out with him for grocery sounds far more amusing than sticking in his apartment. So I put on my hoodie and a pair of black leather gloves to cover my metal hand.

We go to Steve’s favorite place downtown. The walk is twenty minutes from where he lives. Sweats haven’t broken from our skins since the winter air keeps everything dry. He tells me during the walk that it’s only a small store but warm and was owned by a lovely old lady who runs this place more than forty years. Now, her daughter and her son-in-law help the old lady to look after the store sometimes because she’s getting older.

When we arrive at the grocery store, I can see why Steve keeps coming back to this place and calls it his favorite. It isn’t because he can buy something special that he cannot find anywhere else in town; everything they sell here can be found in every other ordinary supermarket at any street corner, but there is something to do with the old days when I first step in. I think this place looks like a store from 40’s in Brooklyn.

In those days, People on the street could easily see almost every goods on hand-made wooden shelf inside stores from big clear windows in front of each shop. Signs and names of stores usually were painted metal, not thousands of small bright colorful lights placing next to one another like seeds on a sunflower as most of them are today. There were no plastic bags so everything was wrapped with brown paper and put in paper bags.

It takes me a while to work it out; I haven’t got it until I see Steve keeps his eyes fixed at the wall behind the cashier. The answer is hanged and framed on that wall. Old photographs of young men in military uniforms that start to turn yellow; they were all smiling and relaxing as if they were going on a vacation, not a battle field. Some faces look familiar to me but I cannot name any of them. After a minute of looking at the photos, I recognize Steve in two of them, standing proudly with those soldiers. Steve must have known these men in the war.

“You may not remember them but they are our friends, more like brothers in wars. We fought and lookout for each other.” Steve begins to speak after minutes long of silence.

“Can you see the guy on the left side of that photo?” He points out for me to see. “His name was John Wellington but we all called him Jonny. He survived the war and ran this grocery shop with his wife after he came back. He had two daughters and a happy life. Jonny passed away few years before I started to come here.” He pauses and sighs.

“I wish he was still alive. It would be good to have some more old friends around.” His eyes get darker with sorrow; they seem to loss the gleam like on every father’s day and mother’s day when our art teachers wanted her students to make cards for their parents and bring them home to their loved ones.

Everyone in our class had parents to celebrate with, except Steve. Even so, he still made several cards for his parents every year. No one knew what he did with those cards until I was curious enough to follow him after school on one Mother’s Day. Steve put his card in his folder carefully. It was the most beautiful card in our class. He drew the portrait of his mother inside the card. No doubt, he’s always good at art. We all thought he would become a famous artist one day.

I followed him down southward for almost an hour with no clue where he was going until he stopped walking. Steve visited his parent graves to put the card in front of his mother ledger and talked to her for an hour. Steve tried his best to look and sound happy to talk to an irresponsive piece of stone with his mother name on it but there was no gleam of happiness in any of his eyes.

On that afternoon, I thought he was the loneliest person in the world and I wanted to be friends with him.

Steve had friends at school but they were not close. Most people only took advantage of him because he was always good and kind to everyone. Whenever it came to sport, Steve was always the last to be in any team. They called him “The leftover” and bullies saw him as an easy target. No one picked him to be in their team. He always sat and ate alone during lunch time.

I sat and had lunch with Steve on the next day. We started to talk and soon, he became my best friend.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I never got angry with Steve that he couldn’t reach for my hand in time on that day. He had done his best to save me and he failed. I wish I could just have died on that mission from the fall before Hydra could retrieve me back to their laboratory. I was half buried under white snow. Snowblinks got into my eyes and shinnied as if it were pieces of titanium in the sunlight. The coldness against my skin was peaceful and quite a relief. That was the last time I felt cold and peace or be able to feel something apart from pain.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I’m with Steve I feel like I’m not alone anymore because I’m not the only one who feels out of place and out of time. It’s kind of sad to live in somewhere you don’t feel belong to. 2014 isn’t where we belong to. We are two people who supposed to die during combat in WWII, but fate decided to play bad jokes on us; two people who try their best to live with present while the past is clinging to us like our own shadows. I feel like a ghost of the past, unfinished business that couldn’t rest in peace.

And Steve also feels the same way.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Snow begins to fall when we step out of the grocery store after Steve brought everything he had listed. Mostly are food and household stuffs. I help him carry half of the things he brought. Though, I know he can carry them all by himself now but he lets me help him just like the old days. The only difference would be that he isn’t that scrawny little boy who needed my protection anymore.

The temperature drops below zero and our breaths turn foggy. I wear only thin cotton hoodie but snow isn’t cold for me, not anymore since I became the Winter Solider. I never felt cold again.

By the time we’re waiting for the traffic-light to turn green, I see two kids playing together on the street. One has Captain America’s toy shield in his right arm and his friend has a black hoodie which screened a cartoonish version of my metal on his left arm. They run toward us and wait for the green light so that they can cross the road to a playground on the opposite side but they still keep playing with one another.

“Hah! You must die today, Winter Solider!” The boy with the shield cries out.

“No way! Captain America! I’m the Winter Solider” The other boy shouts back.

“Okay, I’ll throw the shield at you and you suppose to fall down then die.”

“Hey, Why do I have to die!?”

“Because you’re the Winter Solider, Captain America’s greatest enemy!”

“That’s not fair! I don’t want to die. When can we swap the role? I want to be Captain American too.”

“No, you can’t. There is only one Captain America so you must be the bad guy, Antonio.” The kid with Captain America’s toy shield pushes the other one and he falls into the snowy floor.

Steve sees the kid on the ground, he nearly cries so Steve kneels down and talks to those boys. “Hey, kids! Take it easy! Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“We’re playing Captain America and the Winter Solider but I don’t want to play anymore because Jack wants to kill the Winter Solider but I don’t want to die so I asked him to swap the role with me because I also want to be a hero---” The boy in Winter Solider hoodie mutters.

“There can only be one Captain American and the Winter Solider must die because he’s a villain!” then the other boy interrupts him.

“Whoa, whoa, listen, Jack. Being a hero isn’t about killing bad guys, it’s more about saving people lives. And some bad guys deserve a second chance to realize that what they did were wrong so they can become better people.” Says Steve. He truly speaks from his warm heart that is always kind to everyone.

“Even a very, very bad person like the Winter Solider deserves a second chance?” The boy with a shield asks.

“Definitely, we all make mistakes every day, right?” I feel as if Steve is actually talking to me more than teaching these kids a lesson. I always carry the blood on my hands and doubts with me; I’ve been worrying about starting a new path where I can save lives instead of taking them but I’m not sure that people would ever give me a chance to do it. But I forgot that there is Steve who has faith in me all the time.

The boys look at each other and Jack offers Antonio a hand to help him get on his feet. “I’m sorry that I pushed, Antonio. You can be Captain America if you want from now on.” Jack hands his shield to Antonio.

“It’s okay. Jack, Let’s go and play slider at the playground.” Then the traffic-light turns green and those kids cross the road to the playground.

We watch those two boys disappear in the crowd at a playground. I still cannot get Steve’s words out of my head. I might be able to start a new beginning with Steve who never doubts me. We keep on walking while the snow falls heavier.

“Look at these snow, there are as white as icing frost on wedding cakes that we used to want to taste. Also there was a time we thought icing sugar fell from the sky so we ate a lot of snow until we got stomachaches.” Says Steve, following by a little chuckle. I think he tries to tell a joke.

“Put this on, I don’t want you to catch a cold.” Steve takes off his chocolate leather jacket and covers it on my head.

“Don’t you know that I won’t catch a cold from walking in the snow? I don’t need you to look after me, jerk.” This is the first time I call him jerk again in decades. I punch him playfully on his right forearm. We did that a lot when we were kids.

“They called me Winter Solider, I’m colder than snow.” I burst out laughter after I finish my sentence, about to pull the leather jacket off my head when Steve grabs my hand and leans closer, to straighten the leather jacket on my head properly. He is so close to me that I can smell his peppermint toothpaste from his foggy breath.

Then my head starts to throb. Steve has triggered my old memory. I start to see them as fragments before it comes together and forms pictures then pictures are played like a movie.

There was the time we were on a narrow street of cobblestones, walking back home after school. Steve was a frail boy back then. He caught a cold in the morning but insisted to come to school. Steve’s cold got worse in the afternoon as his skin turned hot and red like a burning coal, so we left the school early on that day. I hooked his right shoulder around my neck to help him walked home to prevent him from falling on the ground. We were half way through where we lived when little innumerable snowflakes began to fall from the cloudy sky.

Coldness made Steve quivered uncontrollably but he didn’t say a word or complain about anything. I guess he didn’t want to cause me any more trouble so Steve decided to keep quite. After a while, he had to grind his teeth to stop them from shaking. I took off my blue knitting scarf and rounded it around Steve’s neck, covered his neck up to the nose. But he was barely protected from the cold and wetness anyway when the snow landed and melted on his head. So I gave my coat to Steve. It could at least keep his head dry. Steve protested. He reassured me that he was fine without my coat. He tried to hand my coat back to me but I refused.

Once again, I had to tighten my coat on his head and made a little wool roof above his blond hair. Steve looked up at me with tired expression as he sighed. The scrawny man finally gave in; he could no long continue arguing with me while catching his breath at the same time. I put one of my arms around Steve’s torso and another one under his right armpit to support him. That was how we managed to continue our journey.

The cold breeze showed no mercy to two of us. Not long, I was shivering like a leaf in a mad storm. I put a huge effort to pretend that everything was fine although none of my secret could dodge Steve’s eyes. We never kept any secret from one another no matter what. The guilt in his eyes told me that Steve knew I was cold and he thought it was his fault to push me into such stage.

Steve unwound my scarf on his neck and hooked one end around my neck and the other end on his. He covered my head with a half of my coat. We shared both my coat and scarf which were not really big enough for two boys. He needed to lean close against my chest, in my embrace. Steve looked a bit uncomfortable in his position but he didn’t say a word as we walk home. I wasn’t quivering anymore. Steve was warm, warmer than usual because of the fever.

I looked down at Steve who was as tall as my shoulder level. Flushes were formed on his pale cheeks. His nose was also red like Rudolf the Red Nose reindeer in the Christmas song we sang last year at school. The resemblance between the red nose reindeer made me laugh and I had to tell Steve later on why I was laughing. After Steve knew why I laughed he wasn’t happy with my joke. He was sullen and puffed at me so I apologized. Those blue eyes turned soften as he forgave me. I glued my glance on his face. It took him a moment to notice my stare. Steve turned his blue eyes to meet mine. We were so close until I could smell the peppermint from his foggy breath.

The snow was titanium white. The sky was gloomy. And his lips were cherry red when I kissed him. It was the fever that made them look more desirable so I bended my lips down to meet his. I remember the taste and sensation. The kiss was like a chunk warm of melted soft cotton candy but much more tang. Steve grasped on my shirt so tight when we were kissing. He seemed to be surprised and scared. I guess this was his first kiss; otherwise he would not be so dumbfounded or maybe it was because the kiss came from his best pal.

The kiss was so good that I didn’t want to let go of his lips. And when I did, it was because Steve needed to catch his breath. Steve panted for a while then started to walk away from me and he didn’t turn back to look at me. I did try to follow him but then I thought he might want to be alone. So I let him go. My heart sank into the snow under my feet as I sat down on a pavement. I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was sitting down to think. Some people walked pass me and gave me supercilious looks like I was a piece of rubbish but I didn’t care. My body was numb and petrified on the pavement. Regret rushed to me like a mighty gust wind from the east before a storm arrives. I felt terrible sick in my gut.

I couldn’t recall what I did afterwards, apart from sitting for who knows how long. All I could remember was I went to see Steve at his apartment the next morning. I didn’t know how I got home that night or maybe I didn’t all night. I was standing in front of his apartment after I had rung the bell twice. I was thinking about apologizing for kissing him unwillingly. Nothing came up on my mind was good enough for what I did to him. When the door opened, Steve acted like the kiss yesterday didn’t happen. As if I was daydreaming on the street or the fresh fallen snow had played tricks on me.

We never talked about that incident again. No one dared bring it up. We knew it would change our friendship. Both of us just pretended like it never happened. Nevertheless, there is no way I could forget what happened. I liked that kiss and deep down in my subconscious craved for more.

Once I heard someone said history repeats itself. Now, I have an urge to kiss him again. I don’t know whether it’s because of me getting nostalgic about the past or something has got into me. My lips touch Steve’s. I kiss him without a second thought; I wouldn’t do it, if I could turn back time.

It takes me less than a matter of second to realize how stupid I am. I can see his eyes widen with surprise and disbelief. Everything happens too fast. The shock freezes him. Steve doesn’t resist kiss but he isn’t responsive either. I should have learnt from my past that this will never work out all right, no matter how many times I try.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of Titanium Snow.  
> However, there is a spin-off that I will post next week.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!
> 
> Enjoy reading!

The kiss doesn’t feel the same for me anymore because we both have changed. I’m not the same Bucky that I used to be. He isn’t the skinny Steve that I had to look out for anymore. Steve no longer needs me or anyone to protect him. Now, he’s Captain America. Thus, I only was his best friend. On the other hand, I’m his enemy, the notorious assassin. I’m the Winter Solider.

 

Who could love a man like me?

 

No man can turn back the tide. I’m trapped in the delusional past where I cannot go back like a ghost of time that cannot rest in peace. How pathetic am I? I should’ve known this before I came to see him. I hate myself because I’m a jerk who never do anything right.

A long awkward silence emerges between us. We are both standing still and puzzled. Steve tries to avoid to make an eye contact with me by looking around when he is about to say something to.

“I’m going to see Sam this evening…then have dinner with him tonight so you don’t have to wait for ----” Steve begins to speak, though, it’s more like a groaning as he says.

I grab another shopping bag from Steve and walk away abruptly. I haven’t waited for him to finish his sentence. I’m so mad with myself. I don’t know what exactly got into me at that particular moment. I was recalling some piece of my memory, wondering whether it’s real or my mind just played some kind of trick on me. I didn’t notice that I was also redoing the same thing until our lips had touched.

There is no need for any apology when there is nothing to be apologized. I have done something unforgivable for the second time. After all, it is better to forget when you cannot forgive.

At the end of the day, we will just pretend like nothing ever happens again anyway. I have to get over it.

As my feet keep walking I pay no attention to my surrounding. I think I’ve bumped into three or four people on way back to the apartment. Well, they just get into my way and I’m cross. I make my way to Steve’s apartment as fast as I can.

I drop all shopping bags on a counter in the kitchen within one loud thud. My rampage is still boiling hot. There is a faucet next to me so I turn on the cold water and splash it straight to my face to cool down. Water dampens on my hair and shirt before it starts to drip down on the floor. I push my wet hair backward and feel a bit better.

Sorting groceries into cupboards where they belong to is what I do after I finish a little wash up. I am almost done with putting things away by the time I see a piece of folded paper about the same size as a credit card in the last paper bag I brought home with me. I think it’s a receipt from the shop but why is it folded? So I open it up to see what it really is.

It’s a note. I recognize the rough handwriting on the paper, it belongs to Brock Rumlow, the person I least want to see. In the note, He wants to see me, claims to have something important to tell.

Rumlow asks me to meet him on the roof of an office building in downtown at seven. I look up at the o’clock on the wall, it’s already quarter to seven. If I use the shortcut I can still be there in time. So I rush out the apartment immediately.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By the time I arrive at the location. I see a vague figure standing in the shaded side of the roof. I’m very confident of who is standing there. He seems to come here alone. There is no sign of his underlings on the roof.

“What the hell do you want from me?” I shout. I demand for an answer and I want it now.

“Whoa! Easy, Winter. I don’t want anything from you. I just come to warn you.” He replies.

“About what?” I ask. Rumlow says nothing like he’s contemplating about something really crucial but I know it’s just only a part of his tricks to gain my attention and I won’t fall for it.

“Spit it out or I’ll squeeze it out with my hands.” My metal hand clenched into a fist. I’m so sick of this mind game that he always pulls out on everyone.

“Hydra is back and they’re looking for you.”

The chill runs through my spine as his words fume into night air around me, quietly but heavily.

I cannot find a word to say so I don’t say anything as if a cat has got my tongue. Rumlow must be lying and this meeting is useless. Though, if it were true, I’d still be fine on my own. I won’t let them catch me and wipe my head clean again.

“You think you can win against Hydra? Well, think again? Do you think that Captain America idiot will help you? Just the two of you against the rest of the world?” Then he continues before my brain can work out what to say.

“Forget him, he’s just S.H.I.E.L.D’s dog. He will just kill you straight away if his master says so. You’re one of S.H.I.E.L.D greatest enemy. You destroyed their entire organization and almost killed Nick Fury. Do you think S.H.I.E.L.D will let you live in your boyfriend’s little apartment happily ever after? Sooner or later they will find out where you are. And I think you already know what they’re gonna do with you after they’ve got you.”

I listen to Rumlow and his words cut through me like a dozen of sharp knives in my chest. He’s right and every part of his sentences is true. The truth is always hard to digest. Some part of me knows it all along that it would happen one day but I didn’t know it would have happened so soon.

“I can cover you up, Winter. Just come with me.” Rumlow opens his arms and closes upon the space between us.

Rumlow’s offer ringing in my head like bold thunders.

A part of me doesn’t want to leave Steve while the other part tells me to run away from him. No matter what I do, or he does, or we do. We cannot be like the old days. I try to think harder for the best solution for myself but my vision goes blank so I have to tighten my fingers into a fist and take deep breaths to play cool. I can hear my own heartbeats loudly as if my ears were just next to it. The sound of heart beating is getting louder and louder until I can no longer hear anything else.

“BUCKY!”  
The loud voice knocks me out of my thought. Steve is standing in front of the roof top’s door, ready to kill everyone who gets in his way. Except that he doesn’t have his shield with him and he still in casual leather jacket and jeans. He must be so hurry to get here.

“Stay right the fuck where you are. Rogers. He’s coming with me!” Rumlow bares his teeth, swiftly pointing a handgun at Steve’s direction like a warning sign.

“You don’t have to go anywhere, Bucky. You can stay. I promise I will not let anything happened to you.” Steve doesn’t stop. He steps closer to me and that has triggered Rumlow to fire his gun.

Steve suddenly falls on the concrete floor and starts to groan in pain. I see blood leaks out from his wound, soaking his t-shirt.

“Don’t make me remind your thick skull twice. Fuck off!”

Rumlow aims for the killing shot. There is no other way to stop the bullet, so I throw myself in front of Steve. The pain hits me all at once and blood rushes out from the wound.

I haven’t felt anything for years, any happiness, fear, sadness, or pain. Things have changed in the past few weeks when I’m with Steve.

I finally feel alive and I don’t regret anything.

The bullet itself burns within my chest like it was a red hot iron in a mold. This is not an ordinary bullet. It must make out of Adamantium, one of the rarest substance on earth and a few kinds that could kill me and Steve.

I hear Steve yelling my name out while I’m falling on my knees slowly.

I turn back to see if Steve is still alright or not. It takes a lot of effort to do a simple turning when there is a nine millimeters Adamantium bullet in my chest and then I collapsed onto the floor, unable to hold my head up straight anymore. The scent of blood is filling my mouth up to my nostril. I begin to cough blood out. The bullet damages my left lung. Steve’s voice keeps calling my name continuously as he tries his best to reach me. We’re only ten foot away from one another but it seemed like ten damn miles.

It’s Rumlow who reaches me first. He tosses his gun away and sinks on his knees beside my blood-soaked body. His arms wrap around me. I can feel them shaking slightly. His eyes are at my wound before they shift to lock with mine. Rumlow seems to be terrified by the amount of my blood that starts to soak his uniform but he keeps his face completely still like a well-trained soldiers.

My conscience begins to blur and turn colorless from blood lost. Rumlow lifts me up from the floor easily. I don’t have any strength left to restrain. I’m so powerless and helpless. The only thing I can do now is looking at Steve who is struggling to get up on his feet. I don’t think he’s going to make it to me in time before Rumlow takes me away. The bullet hole on his abdomen looks as bad as the one on my chest.

We are lucky. It seems like Rumlow only has two bullets, otherwise Steve would have already been dead by now because I could not take another bullet for him.

I hear the sound of helicopter from a distance. The propeller sounds more like a Russian-made helicopter so it’s not S.H.I.E.L.D’s army. Rumlow is carrying me toward it; follow by the crowded noise from behind. I heard the cracking sounds of rooftop door that has been broken down and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s force rushed into my sight.

This is the first time I feel relieved to see S.H.I.E.L.D.’s force. There are men in black uniforms and night-vision goggles. I have my glance fixed on Steve until the Rescue Frontier Unit reaches him. I know he’s in good hands now and there is nothing left for me to be worried.

I’ve been with Steve ‘till the end of the line as I made my promise. So I shut my eyes down slowly as if I wanted to rest my eyes but honestly I’m too exhausted to keep them open any longer.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I know I was wrong, always wrong when I thought I should have died on the train mission.

I already died; my life was over a very long time ago. There is no more of James Buchanan Barnes or Bucky who was Steve Rogers’ best friend. I don’t want to be the Winter Solider but also I cannot be Bucky anymore.

Well, it won’t matter anymore in the matter of minutes. They are going to delete all of my memories once again and put me into deep sleep. There will be nothing left for me to wonder when there is nothing I remember.

Then… who am I becoming?

I was Bucky Barnes.

I was the Winter Solider.

_But who the hell I am now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't get me wrong, I love Bucky dearly but I don't what got into me with I wrote this fiction. I didn't want to see him suffering (; ^ ; ) 
> 
> I also cried several times when I was writing.
> 
> Thank you reading! 
> 
> See you again next week with the spin-off of Titanium Snow.


	3. Snowblind (Spin-Off)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I will recall him. No matter how many times you wipe me clean. He’s my best friend.” Bucky hears a pause in Rumlow's echoing footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the spin-off of Titanium Snow.  
> Thank you for reading and kudos.  
> Enjoy!!!

Everything is blurred under harsh neon light. It takes several minutes for Bucky’s eyes to adjust after he wakes up. The smell of antiseptic hits his nostril sharply. Pain on his chest starts to kick in as he tries to move. A long white bandage is wrapped his chest firmly. Bucky has no idea where he is until he realizes both of his wrists are shackled onto a cold metal chair, surrounded with four people dressed in white gowns, resemble to doctors in a hospital but these people aren’t doctors. They’re former Hydra scientists. Now, Bucky knows where this is going.

There is no use to escape because he had tried and failed for so many times before. Moreover, he has no place to go. To go back and live with Steve is not an option anymore, though an idea of sharing an apartment with Steve like what they did in old days is agonizing and yet attempting. A hound cannot be friend with a fox. They will only create troubles. He’d hoped his happiness would last longer. He thinks he already created a lot of trouble for Steve. S.H.I.E.L.D must’ve known they were living together for weeks. Bucky wonders what would be the punishment for hiding S.H.I.E.L.D most wanted villain under their nose.

Weeks he spent with Steve were like delirious daydreams. Bucky was so happy, the feeling he hasn’t felt for more than half a century. The memories are still burning hot at the back of his mind. He lets himself get lost in the sea of memories when he tries to recall the time he and Steve have been spending together. Every touch from Steve was warm and soothing. The blonde in his recollection smell of fresh peppermint toothpaste mixed with mild spicy cologne and musk; it is like the odor of fresh summer. Bucky would rather sink into the thought forever because it’s where Steve is almost reachable. He clings to his precious memories as he wants to forget about the present and the future, where there is nothing to look forward to. 

The door slides open and three men in black jackets walk in. Rumlow gives a signal for his underlings to dismiss. They nod in response and go to guard the entrance. The man who gives order himself walks toward one of the scientists. Their conversation begins and ends within ten minutes. Rumlow keeps his expression neutral throughout until he lands his gaze on Bucky. Rumlow’s lips crave into a smirk then he walks toward the man on a mental chair. Bucky pays no attention on the man who is now standing in front of him; his eyes are fixed on the neon light above his head.

Rumlow has been following the trail of the Winter Soldier for months after the abolishment of Hydra. The Soldier was roving from one place to another without any fixed pattern, like he’s searching for something or someone but Rumlow wasn’t sure at that time.

Until one late afternoon, he followed Bucky to an ordinary apartment. It seemed like there was nothing special about this place at first. The furniture and interior were so simple and low-budget. No things worth enough to steal. If you loot the whole apartment and sell everything, you still won’t be able to afford a middle-grade bicycle on the market. The only reason Bucky was here is to see someone.

A moment later, Steve Rogers stepped into apartment. Rumlow was furious. Rumlow has always hated both Steve Roger and Captain America for reasons but the main reason would be he thinks the man is just a phony hero and a fake lab rat. He cannot stand whenever he hears hysterical crowd calling Captain America; it makes him feel sick and want to puke. 

Rough fingers begin to stroke Bucky’s hair, Rumlow notices that his hair gets much longer than what he’d prefer it to be, during the time he hasn’t seen the Winter Soldier, his Winter Soldier. A mental note has been made on his mind that Bucky’s hair needs to be trimmed. Despite the length, the soft brunette lock still feels right in his touch. Some of Bucky’s hair covers his face so Rumlow tucks it behind another man ear. He wants to get the clear look of deep auburn eyes.

“Why do you have to do this to me?” Bucky demands but he doesn’t flick to see Rumlow. His eyes gaze blankly at the neon light on the ceiling. He doesn’t want to look at the man who shot him and his best friend. Bucky was so close to live on the brighter side of the road.

“Protect me? You’re a fucking liar.” Bucky grits out. Rollins almost reaches him but his boss stops first. Rumlow spreads his right arm as a gesture to hold Rollins back.  
“There is no need to hurt him. Let him say whatever he wants. Soon enough, He won’t remember anything.” Rumlow chuckles and smirks.

“You don’t want me to remember Steve, do you?” Bucky inquires. To Rumlow, it’s a rhetorical question and there is no use answering it.

“You never give the fuck about anyone, except yourself!” The chained man curses on heatedly.

Rumlow stays quiet for a minute before he answers. “I think you know why.” He uses his right hand to cup Bucky face.

“Operate the machine.” Rumlow turns to one of the scientists. He’s already bored of keeping their conversation flowing. He feels like he’s arguing with a five years old child. His lips taste bitter after the small talk; he wants to smoke some cigarettes. He begins to walk out of the lab, leaving the Winter Soldier with scientists.

“I will recall him. No matter how many times you wipe me clean. He’s my best friend.” Bucky hears a pause in echoing footsteps.

“Friends don’t kiss each other.” Rumlow doesn’t have to turn back to see another man face but he knows his words have done their job. Bucky’s eyes go wild incredulously, trying to figure out how Rumlow could possibly know about the kiss and what else does he know.  
“Operate the fucking machine.” Are these scientists deaf? He swears under his breath. Rumlow hates to say things twice. Heavy footsteps continue to echo throughout the laboratory. No one dares to speak again.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I want to get some fresh air.” Rumlow murmurs when he reaches the entrance. His underlings nod in apprehension. Rollins watches Rumlow get out of the room. He wants to follow his boss but he knows he shouldn’t, it will only make things worse. All he can do is stare at Rumlow till the man disappears into the woods.

The agonizing screams of Bucky struggling through the brainwash processes can be heard from behind as Rumlow strides out from an old isolated storage; the place covered with fresh fallen snow from last night. He walks toward the line of tall pine trees. The further he gets near the woods, the quieter the surroundings get. Soon, there is only the sound of wind left.

By the time Rumlow arrives at the front boundary of pine trees. He picks a lighter and a new pack of expensive cigarettes out his coat pocket. The man put one cigarette put it between his lips then lights it up on another end. A deep breath has been taken in for a moment and he exhales out the cloudy smoke through his mouth. He lets out a sigh of relief afterwards. 

Finally, he can enjoy his cigarette in peace with snow and solitude as his companions. Rumlow closes his eyes to relax and linger on nicotinic tang in his mouth, while his mind shifts back to think about the last cigarette of the previous pack that turned to waste. The man did pay a foolish sum to get a pack of premium cigarettes made from the rarest type tobacco leaves of its kind. He thought he would be able to enjoy them until the last bit, but unfortunately, the last astronomical cigarette turned stale. The bitterness appeared on his tongue when he was smoking half way through it. Even so, he didn’t give a fuck about it because his mind is focusing on somewhere else. If he didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe it; the Winter Soldier is kissing Captain America. If reporters or paparazzis were around here, this kissing scene would be the biggest scandal of the 21st century. Within no time, it would make its way up every headline everywhere. Rage creeps into Rumlow’s mind; his right fists into a tense ball. He wanted to punch those lips that Bucky had kissed till they bruise and bleed.

The burning cigarette lies on the contaminated snowy ground after Rumlow spitted in out. He could not bear it taste any longer. His patience was running thin but this was not the right time to let it take charge. As a wiseman says patience is a virtue so anger must be the vice. Heat at the end of the cigarette melted some snow underneath it and created a tiny pool of water; where it eventually soaked in wetness. Rumlow spared a cold glance at a half wasted and half spoiled pricey cigarette. He let out an audible sigh that sounded more like a hiss. By using his shoe as a tool to help him, Rumlow pushed some snow to bury the spoiled cigarette abruptly. He only wanted to get it out of his sight as soon as possible. A satisfied grin painted across his face. He looked down his work before he got on going after Bucky who speed up into the crowd on pavement. It was time for him to carry on with his plan in order to get the Winter Soldier back on his side.

The sun sinks into a distant horizontal line. Golden sun ray gleams on the pine woods, making everything illuminated exquisitely. Daylight will go out within an hour. Rumlow knows he should get back before it gets dark but there is no need to rush. By the time he finishes this cigarette, he is certain that he will get his Winter Soldier back.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in Titanium Snow Fanbook you can have a look at this link below or leave a message at the comment box.  
> http://www.storenvy.com/products/10188369-titanium-snow-fanbook


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